The Shipping Wars
by DM-sama
Summary: OTP's have feelings too. human!OTP's.
1. Meet The Ships

**Meet the Ships!**

**~*O*~**

Once upon a time, a many years ago, there was a little ship named Rusame. Spawned from the ever exuberant America, Rusame was a very loud, boastful ship, chewing off the ear of anyone who would listen. Her other half, the yandere half, warped her to become rather unpredictable and strange, leading her to possess a fondness for metal pipes and S&M. Above all, however, she was friendly, cheerful, and always had a smile on her lips.

Despite her outgoing and rather eccentric personality, Rusame was rather small, shy, and very insecure. While she would brag day in and day out about her dreams to become the biggest ship of all, a niggling doubt would always worm into her speech. Treasured friend and ally, USUK, would always be there to comfort her.

_Don't worry so much, _she would say gently. _Everybody loves a love/hate relationship._

_Just look at me! _said FrUK with a toothy grin.

_They'll adore you, Rus. Don't worry._

Reassured and content, Rusame spent her days drawing and writing her livelihood, anxiously awaiting the day they all would finally get to meet the fangirls. _With the Cold War on my side, I'll be sure to get a large following_, she would think, penciling away happily. _I can't wait; USUK and I will be the best of them all!_

The day finally came for the fangirls to meet the ships. The newcomers were first welcomed by the ever beautiful (and slightly naïve) Gerita before moving on to greet the non-canonicals. Rusame smiled and waved when the first few girls trickled over to her corner before they moved on to meet the others. Some even stayed by her side the whole time, already claiming her as their OTP! She just about cried from joy. The anime hasn't even premiered yet, and she was already an OTP!

All the while, the crowd surrounding USUK grew steadily larger, everybody wanting to shake her hand and be her friend. Rusame didn't mind too much, happy with her new friends and overjoyed that her old friend was becoming so popular so fast. Trying to catch her friend's eye, she waved, flailing her pipe around happily. USUK didn't notice her, but Rusame didn't mind.

The anime premiered, and Rusame couldn't ever remember being so happy. She would read _The Chosen End _every single day, look up doujinshis, and watch AMV's produced by her wonderful fanbase. Even the constant brawls and arguments with RoCho couldn't dampen her spirits. Week after week a new episode would premiere, and she would earnestly await the one that would declare her semi-canon. USUK was always there to support her. _It's only a matter of time_, she would say, clutching Rusame's hand eagerly. _There's always next week._

And so Rusame waited.

And waited.

And waited.

_And waited_.

Axis Powers became World Series, and World Series turned into a two year dry spell of abandoned stories and WIP's. The few that declared Rusame their OTP in the beginning had already grown up and moved on, going to college or getting jobs, or leaving her entirely for new ships in other fandoms. Her size would dwindle smaller and smaller each month, until she was so petite that most people mistook her for a crack ship. Not a day went by that she worried about one day disappearing altogether.

But with the anime over, Rusame had lost all hope. USUK had abandoned her a long time ago, engorged by her mind-blowing success. Popular and radiating beauty, even SuFin wanted to be her friend. Life went on, and USUK grew more and more powerful. Try as she might, Rusame couldn't help but let her small heart grow green with envy.

She was never going to become semi-canonical now, and nobody wanted to associate with a crack ship.

As time wore on and the shipping began taking full effect, the OTP's found themselves changing with it. A day didn't go by that USUK and FrUK didn't erupt in a fierce argument, and Rusame would spend her days either spamming lewd pictures to RoCho or discussing memes with the young ship PruCan. Best friends turned into heated rivals, and once enemies formed steel-packed alliances.

The threat of war always seemed imminent.

It was only a matter of time before somebody took advantage of that.

**~*O*~**

**I have absolutely no idea where this came from. I just thought; if countries can have personifications, can the embodiments that ship said countries together have personifications too? The shis would be like a mix between a lovechild and the personality of the ship itself. I imagine Gerita being beautiful and compassionate but hopelessly naïve and stupid, whilst Rusame would be sadistic and still horribly insecure about herself. What do you guys think?**

**I also don't have anything against USUK, not really. I just prefer colonial!America and Mommy!England more than anything, so everything thing else is a bit too incestuous for my taste. XD**

**SuFin is the best, no matter which way you slice it.**

**(Oh, and if anyone wants to beta, that'd be great.)**

**In other news: WHY IS PRUCAN SO MUCH MORE POPULAR THAN RUSAME?! JUST—**_**WHY?! **_**Don't get me wrong, I adore PruCan, it's my Vice OTP, but **_**COME ON**_**, GUYS! DX**


	2. This Is War

**This is War**

**~*O*~**

"SON OF A _BITCH_!"

The laptop crashed to the ground in an angry fit. The other occupant of the room gasped in shock.

"Ruse, is everything okay?"

Jumping down from her swivel chair, Rusame roughly picked up her laptop, only to throw it to the ground again, successfully breaking it with an acidic _pop_. "Of _course _nothing is okay, Prue, since when has _anything _been okay?"

Mumbling inane profanities under her breath, the ship weakly tugged at her hair and kicked the stained, peeling wall angrily. PruCan rose from her spot on the bed and crouched low next to her friend, a hand raised in concern.

"Is—is it RoCho again, Ruse? Did he send you another panda on Farmtown?"

Taking a deep, calming breath, Rusame lowered her hands to her side. She shook her head, resting her forehead against the wall. PruCan placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "Was it USUK? Did she upload another doujinshi?"

Rusame weakly shook her head again.

"No, but that certainly wouldn't help," she mumbled sourly, gently shaking the hand off. "It's just—" The brief flicker of fury gone, a thick mesh of shame and guilt welded up in her stomach as she glanced at the destroyed laptop. Great, _now _how was she supposed to catch the next update of _Psycho? _ "I'm sorry, Prue. I'm sure you have better things to do than watch me tirade."

PruCan smiled gently and took hold of Rusame's hand. "You're my friend, Ruse, and friends support each other. Besides, you know how much I love visiting your place!"

With an incredulous look, Rusame glanced over the expanse of her tiny apartment, the single, unmade bed, the empty bag of chips and soda that littered the floor, the cracked window that offered a lovely view of the downtown slums. She raised an eyebrow. PruCan smiled weakly.

"It's charming," she said simply. "Besides, you're always welcomed to my house any time—"

"Oh _yes_, because I want to spend all day getting snubbed and looked down at by all the non-canons, that'd be _swell_," Rusame spat bitterly. "How _is _Germancest doing by the way?"

PruCan visibly paled, sloppily changing the subject. "W—well, maybe if you dressed a little more—" she glanced subtly at the ripped jeans and the shirt that exclaimed _DON'T BOTHER, I'M NOT DRUNK YET_—"_less _you, maybe people wouldn't confuse you for a crack ship all the time."

Rusame sniffed impatiently, walking over to her destroyed laptop. "Even if I dressed like a princess, it still wouldn't get me out of here." She hesitated, biting her lip, before continuing, "You don't get it PruCan; I'm _stuck _here. While you go make buddy buddy with FrUK and all the other non-canons, I'm just sitting here, getting sicker and sicker by the day, waiting for the moment I don't exist anymore. Do you know what it's like? To not know if you're going to wake up the next morning because there's _nobody else there for you_." Hot, wet tears sprung from her eyes, rolling down her pale cheeks.

"R—Ruse, what is it—?"

"Another multi-chaptered left me," she whimpered brokenly, clutching the laptop to her chest. "She—she left me for _Naruto_, and I don't know how much more I can take before—. I'm _dying, _Prue, I can feel it, and it _hurts_—"

Biting her quivering lip, Rusame set the broken laptop down on her chipped desk. "I'm sick of it, Prue; I'm sick of just sitting here and reading mediocre porn while those damned OTP's are getting fatter and fatter at _our _expense."

"I _know _you are, sweetie, we all are," PruCan crooned gently, thumbing her friend's shoulder blade in comforting circles. "It's just the way the world works, though. It's in our nature. There's nothing you can do about it. Don't beat yourself up over what you can't change."

The room went silent, when suddenly Rusame's breath hitched. "...in our nature..."

Silent PruCan watched with wide eyes as Rusame reached down and open a drawer filled with pictures and pictures of various OTP's and ships. One had a head shot of RoCho with multiple holes pierced through his face, almost has if someone had thrown darts at it. A red inked _TRAITOR _was written across the forehead of a smirking USUK. The only picture that was unmarked was the childish face of Gerita.

Of course, nobody ever dared to slander a picture of Gerita.

"R—Ruse, what are you thinking?" said PruCan in a soft voice.

Rusame shuffled all of the pictures, growing visibly more excited. "You're right, Prue. It _is _in our nature." Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Rusame turned to her friend. "Prue, we—we can start a _war_.

"A _war_?" PruCan gasped in horror and realization sunk in. "You mean a _shipping war_? Ruse, are you _crazy_? Don't you remember what the Shipping Wars did to Avatar: The Last Airbender?" It still sprung nightmares to her subconscious to remember the ravaged wastelands of the old fandom.

"The tensions between all the OTP's has been getting thicker and thicker for months. You remember what happened at the last Summit, USUK and FrUK nearly _killed_ each other; it was in the papers for ages. And that's not all—Germancest and PruAus haven't spoken to each other for years; PruGary would jump through hoops for a shot at AusGary… It's only a matter of time before something sparks," said Rusame, clutching the photographs in her small hands. "We have all of the materials, Prue; why shouldn't _we _be the ones to start it? If this works, it will fix _everything_."

"_If it works_? Ruse, you can't expect us to go against the semi-canons and _win _can you?"

"It _won't_ be just us, though." Rusame pulled more papers from the drawer, maps and blueprrints. "FrUK would leap at the chance to knock USUK of her pedestal, and there are plenty of ships that would want to see Gerita—"

"Now you want to go against _Gerita_?" Heart constricting at the idea of Gerita's warm face contracting in pain, PruCan grabbed her friend's shoulder and whirled her around to face her. "You're scaring me, Ruse, _stop this._"

"Come on, Prue, you of all people should know why we should so this," said Rusame frantically. She paused for a moment, and then continued in a softer voice. "Aren't you tired of all those snobby ships looking down at you and saying _'it's never going to happen_'? Don't you think that you should have a _chance_?"

"B—but," PruCan whispered, heartstrings tugged as the image of her livelihood flashed beneath her eyes. _They're just so _good _together…_ "That's not what it's all _about_. It's not _about _becoming canon—"

"Then do it for _me_," Rusame grabbed her friend's hand, voice firm with conviction. "Do it for all the ships that never had a chance to become an OTP, all the ships that were snubbed and _pitied _because nobody cared what they have to say. _Please_," Rusame voice lowered to a broken whisper. "_Please_. I can't do this without you."

The seconds ticked by, Rusame clinging to PruCan's hand like a lift line, her whispered pleas bouncing around in the silent room. PruCan heaved a sudden sigh.

"Ruse—you're my best friend. If something were to happen to you…I don't know what I'd do." She took another deep breath, taking her free hand and placing gently over their tangled fingers. A new light of determination filled her eyes. "You're my friend. And friends support each other."

Struggling to maintain a serious expression, Rusame said with eyes far too bright, "Then let me say that on this day, you, Prudence Beilschmidt Williams, and I, Rosaline J. Braginsky, have formed an alliance."

**~*O*~**

**Does anyone know how the new character slot thing works on FF here? Like, I have this story categorized under America, England, Russia, and Prussia, and if I just plug in America and England, I can find my story just fine. But if I plug in America and Russia, it doesn't show up. This is kind of important considering Rusame is the main character **_**and I kinda want shippers of them to read it**_**.**

**Yeah, that's right; I gave the OTP's legitimate names. It doesn't matter though; I'll always refer to them by their ship names. That was just for laughs. **

**PruCan and Rusame's alliance stems from the fact that out of all the multi-pairing stories I've read, Rusame and PruCan almost always appear alongside each other. FrUK is another one, but more on that later. **

**Next chapter, Rusame goes hunting for allies!**

**Leave a review my ducklings! This is all for funsies, after all~!**

**P.S.**

**(_Psycho_ is a RusAme story written by the wonderfully talented Urchin of the Riding Stars. Read it, love it, make babies with it, because it is _amazing_.)**


	3. Snug as a Bug (1)

**Snug as a Bug **

**(1)**

**~*O*~**

Deep in the heart of the sprawling expanse of the city, with neon lights and screeching cars, rested the downtown slums. Like a festering sore, it was here that the hopeless and the sick came to rot, to live out there days scavenging in grungy dumpsters. As PruCan slowly made her way through the narrow streets, filth ridden individuals brushing her shoulders and arms what felt like every few seconds, she desperately wished for a bar of soap.

_When was the last time any of these guys have had a bath? _she wondered, descending into a pensive state of pity and disgust. Her arms tingled unpleasantly where the grim of the crack ships rested. _They all look half starved. Americest can't go four hours without complaining about how famished he was; I'd like to see him camp out here for the night._

When she felt yet another hand brush up against her, she cringed. When she felt a grimy paw reach and squeeze her ass, she yelped and tore through the crowded street crazily, not caring how many people she barreled in to.

Ducking into a grungy alleyway, PruCan paused to catch her breath. A rat or two scurried across her brand new boots, but she found herself too frazzled to care. _There's a reason people like me don't come down here, _she thought frantically, wishing for her big brother Germancest. He may scare the bejeezus out of her, but the good part was that he scared the bajeezus out of _everybody_.

In the next moment she barely bit back a scream when she felt a calloused hand grasp her shoulder. Another hand smacked over her mouth, knocking her glasses askew. This time she really did scream, thrashing wildly to escape back into the bustling street.

"Shut up, Prue, _it's me_."

PruCan visibly relaxed at the sound of the familiar voice, slumping against the wall. Blood was pounding in her ears. "Dammit Ruse, you n-nearly gave me a heart attack."

Rusame smiled sympathetically, patting her friend's shoulder. "You were taking so long; I thought you had gotten lost."

"Y-yeah, I al-almost did." She eyed her travel worn friend up and down, noting that she looked nothing how PruCan felt. That being nauseated, tired, and _sick_, all meshing together with a thick wad of pity. "Christ, how can you even _smile _like that after walking around a place like this? I feel like I'm about to puke. And somebody groped me!"

"It's not a day downtown unless you've been groped at least twice," remarked Rusame with unsettling casualness. "You kinda get used to it."

A thick sense of shame and guilt welded up in PruCan's throat, trembling subsiding as she reached for her friend. "I'm sorry, Ruse. God, I feel like an idiot—"

"Don't," said Rusame firmly. She looked like she wanted to say more, but instead steeled her gaze and took PruCan's hand into her own. "Let's get out of here; we're late enough as it is."

They ventured further into the alleyway, getting further and further away from the bustling streets. It grew deathly quiet, and PruCan could vaguely taste the salt of the ocean in the air. They took a few more sharp turns before winding up by a deserted warehouse district. Releasing the grip of her friend, Rusame fished out a pink cellphone in her pocket and flipped it open.

"Warehouse 13-B, right?" she murmured, taking a few steps to the right. She nodded in affirmation. "Yup, this is the place." PruCan glanced down at the message, the one that Rusame received nearly two days ago, almost a week after they had formed an alliance; a picture of a warehouse, a date and time, and a message that read:

_12 o'clock sharp. Try not 2 be late._

It was from an unknown number, and Rusame hardly had an idea of how to track it. She sent multiple messages in return, (_Who is this? How did you get my number? Answer me, asshole!_) but to no avail. Flipping the phone shut, Rusame felt the familiar sense of itching annoyance as she reviewed the message in her mind. _Try not to be late? Jackass. _

She checked her watch.

"12:15," she sighed. "We're late."

"You think they're still here?"

"If they can't wait fifteen extra minutes, then it isn't important enough discussing to begin with and we've wasted our time." Rusame turned to PruCan. "Head on inside. I'll check the perimeter for stragglers. You armed?"

PruCan nodded, fishing out a small army knife from her pocket. Rusame crinkled her nose, and PruCan shrugged. "Well, it's no naginata, but I couldn't very well fit that in my pocket."

Quirking a brow, Rusame pulled out her own weapon. PruCan balked, backtracking in shock.

"A _gunblade_? Ruse, how the hell do you smuggle in a _gunblade_?"

Rusame shrugged before bringing the weapon closer for inspection. "You live in the slums long enough you learn to hide things in interesting places." PruCan visibly balked, and looked like she wanted to press for details, but Rusame was already heading in the other direction. "C'mon, Prue, we've wasted enough time. Break the lock and head inside, I'll meet you there."

She turned the corner and vanished from sight. Quickly becoming unnerved at being alone once again, PruCan crouched down and swiftly undid the padlock with her Swiss army knife. _Gotta remember to thank SwitzLiech for this_, she thought, tucking the knife into her back pocket. Wrenching the doors open, she quickly flitted inside and slammed them shut behind her, throwing her into darkness.

Swallowing a thick wad of saliva, PruCan whipped out her phone to use as a flashlight. The interior on the inside match though of outside: abandoned, grungy, and entirely empty. She wondered what sort of person would want to meet up in a place like this. If it were her she'd have met up in a nice restaurant.

After making sure the place was well and truly empty, PruCan took a seat near the back entrance and waited for her friend to return. Taking out her knife she began carving images in the rust of the walls. She was already on her second image by the time Rusame crept through the broken window, gunblade in tow. A thick bruise was welling up under her eye.

"There were only a few vagrants milling about, mostly prostitutes. I cleared 'em out."

PruCan looked up, eyes widening in concern. "Are you alright? That looks really bad."

"Oh, this?" She tenderly caressed the yellowing bruise. "It's fine, looks worse than it feels. CubaLarus was giving me a hard time, but I managed to shoo him off. The coast, for all intents and purposes, is clear."

"Same here." Rusame crouched down next to her doodling friend, a small smile on her lips. PruCan sheathed the knife, her hand coated with flecks of rust. "You like it?"

"It's a rock."

PruCan spluttered, cheeks dusting pink. "_No_, that's supposed to be _Gilbird_."

"Uh-huh. Is that Mickey Mouse then?"

"W-what?!"

"Why does Mickey have a rock on his head?"

"That's Kumajirou, you twit!"

Chuckling, Rusame put both of her hands up. "I surrender. Geez."

PruCan snorted, clearly affronted, before going back to her work. "Not awesome, Ruse."

Snickering, Rusame settled against the wall, letting the scraping of the knife lull her into a light doze. A small smile was gracing her lips. "I wonder what they want to talk about..."

"I'm more concerned with _who _wants to talk to us. They must've went through a lot to get a hold of your number like that." PruCan paused, a glint of worry in her eyes. "We need to be careful, Ruse. For all we know this could be an ambush."

Rusame snorted. "Some ambush. It's about the war effort, though, Prue. I just know it."

"How could it be? We've only ever talked about it to each other in person. No emails to hack, and unless one of us has a stalker..."

They both fell silent, Rusame lulling herself back into a daze. If she were to be honest with herself, she almost wished that there was an ambush waiting for her. That there was some hotshot upstate had caught wind of her glorious plans and was attempting to stamp out the problem. Rusame against the entire guard, USUK quivering in her mighty throne. Rusame slaying the dragon like the hero she was, Rusame _winning._

Grin widening, she lost herself into a daydream, expression serene, before abruptly going rigid. Lurching to her feet, she tightened her grip on the trigger, before firing three consecutive times in the darkness. PruCan shrieked and covered her ears, the dull ringing of the shots going off like firecrackers.

"Ruse, _what the hell—?"_

"I thought you said the place was empty, Prue!" she spat furiously.

"It was—it _is_ empty!"

Rusame kept firing, the bullets screeching in the darkness, her expression a steely mask of icy reserve. The magazine empty, she ducked down and reloaded before creeping closer towards the center of the warehouse. "I saw something moving. A person. Somebody else is here. _Show yourself!_"

The minute the cry left her lips, a lithe shadow dropped from the ceiling and tackled Rusame to the ground, knocking the gunblade from her hands. Rusame cursed and snarled profanities, quickly finding herself pinned to the ground by the attacker. Determined to not be outdone, Rusame freed her hand and socked the shadow right in the jaw. "You _fucker—!"_

PruCan watched in dazed horror as Rusame snarled and fought away, rolling around on the floor. The tumultuous nature of the fight left her unable to identify the attacker. In her trembling grip was the knife, but PruCan found herself completely frozen to the spot, watching with dazed red-violet eyes. Her jaw flapped uselessly.

"_STOP!"_

Rusame paused, and suddenly found the heavy weight of the attacker lifted off of her. Inhaling deeply, she scrambled to her feet, panting heavily with a bloody lip and bruised knuckles, searching wildly for her misplaced gunblade. Her eyes landed on the weapon on the other end of the room, cradled in the paw of her attacker.

Visibly paling, Rusame's eyes nearly bulged out of her head, face slack with shock.

"_YOU?!_"

**~*O*~**

**Ah, look at all these beautiful reviews! I feel guilty giving you this cliffhanger in thanks. I **_**wanted **_**to add more, but I realized it was taking way too much time. If I keep the chapters shorter it gives me more room to update faster. You'd rather get two short chapters in a week than one long chapter in two, right?**

**A naginata is a curved Japanese spear that was used by samurai and warrior monks. It kind of reminded me of a hockey stick/sword hybrid, so I thought it'd be a cool idea to make that PruCan's signature weapon. While I think Rusame's preferred weapon would still be something a little blunter, the gunblade helps sooth America's gun fetish. And gunblade's are awesome. Plain and simple.**

**You guys can probably guess who the mystery ninja is anyway, right? I'll give you a hint; they've already been mentioned at least thrice. Good luck and see ya'll later! ^^**


	4. CARRY ON MY WAYWARD SON

3 month since last update?

Half-Life 3 confirmed.

—

Shame on me, though, for leaving you beautiful readers out in the cold like that. Especially on such a horrible cliffhanger. *shudders*

x2 Shame Combo.

However, I've been doing some thinking, and I've decided that I'm going to reboot this little tale. I really _really _do like this idea, and I feel it deserves more than me vomiting all over the keyboard. I shall be deleting _this _version right here, however, so it might be a good idea to add me to your Author's Alerts if you want to follow up. ;)

I think it'll be called _**Shipping Revolution**_. It better embodies what it's all about. Up for discussion, however, if ya'll have any suggestions.

Now's also a good time to make a list of all your favorite Hetalian ships and OTP's, because there's too goddamn many of them for me to conjure up an accurate portrayal (and because I really do want to use as many as I can). If you want, you can outline their personality, their appearance, their role in society, etc. etc, though it isn't required. List ships that you hate, even! Just remember to have fun with it!

Message me if you have any questions (or if you just feel like fleshing out anything Hetalia; I love fleshing).

_ARIGATOU~!_

~DM-sama


End file.
